


the one where everybody finds out

by nanwashbrad



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Canon Rewrite, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, i feel like i use that tag a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-18 13:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16119533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanwashbrad/pseuds/nanwashbrad
Summary: A series of shorts about how the people of Camelot found out about Gwaine and Merlin.





	1. Lancelot

**Author's Note:**

> Title (and a few plot points) shamelessly stolen from That Episode of Friends.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot is perceptive.

Patrolling with Gwaine and Percival was never dull, even if sometimes Lancelot would prefer it that way. Once, Percival had gone to get firewood and returned with a harpy on his tail, forcing the three of them to take shelter in a pigsty until the danger passed. Another time, Gwaine got them captured by Caerleon’s men, all because he had to see a friend in a tavern “just over the border." Bollocks. It was more than a league, at least, outside of Camelot. And then there was that time Gwaine and Percival's _friendly bet_ over who could roll a boulder the farthest ended in a broken ankle, two sprained shoulders (both Gwaine’s), a concussion, and five cracked ribs between them.

Still, Lancelot had to admit he preferred it to the tedium of his other patrols. He had great respect for his fellow knights, of course, but the chaos that Gwaine and Percival created around them completed the picture somehow. His life just wouldn’t be the same without those two morons causing him heaps of trouble.

This particular day was no different. Their patrol had been unexciting thus far, but it was only day one of a three day expedition to a nearby village and back to Camelot. They were settling into their campsite, preparing for a meager supper as the wind burned their fire to embers. Lancelot was, at that moment, waiting for Gwaine and Percival’s bickering over who would get more firewood to escalate into a brawl.

“I’m going to go feed and water the horses,” he said, and stood abruptly. He hoped to get out of the vicinity before someone threw a punch.

“Ah, see,” Gwaine smiled, “I will help Lancelot with the horses and you can fetch the firewood.” He got up from his seat on a fallen log to follow Lancelot before Percival could argue.

“If you really hate collecting firewood that much, next time, just ask me,” Lancelot said as they gathered the feed supplies from their saddlebags. “I really don’t mind.”

“No, it’s not that at all,” Gwaine smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously, “I just like pissing off old Percy. Takes the edge of the mind-melting boredom. Fetching firewood actually isn’t so bad, but after that harpy, I love to see the look on his face when he’s got to do it.”

Lancelot chuckled. They each fed their own horse in silence. It was entirely routine, until-

“What’s happening there?” Lancelot asked, gesturing to Percival’s horse. The animal was standing next to Gwaine, nudging him for food even as he knelt to put his feed supplies away.

“I dunno,” Gwaine waved the creature away. It persisted, shoving its face into Gwaine’s shoulder hard enough to knock him onto his rear. “Bugger off, you silly animal.” He pushed himself to his feet and dusted himself off. “Lancelot will feed you in a moment.”

“He seems to think you’re going to feed him,” Lancelot pointed out with an amused smile. He walked to Percival’s horse and patted him soothingly. “I wonder where he would get an idea like that from?”

Gwaine shrugged and helped Lancelot feed Percival’s horse. “Maybe because, other than Merlin, I’m the only one he sees at mealtimes.” 

Gwaine would often help Merlin in the stables upon returning from a patrol or mission of some kind. People found it a bit odd, but Lancelot did not think much of it; Gwaine had always been that way where Merlin was concerned. Besides, it was rare that he actually did any work at all - at least, according to the man himself. He simply went for the sake of keeping his friend company. But now, Lancelot doubted the truth of that claim.

“What about the other servants?”

“Those lazy pricks let Merlin do everything,” Gwaine said, a little too much bitterness in his tone. He seemed to realize this and tried to play it off as a joke, before babbling on about horse-rearing.

Using amiable chatter as a distraction might work on others, but Lancelot was not so easily fooled. It was one thing for Gwaine to trail after Merlin to the stables like a puppy, another entirely for a knight to do a servant’s work. 

It occurred to him that when he asked Merlin “What lucky woman put that spring in your step?” a few weeks ago and the servant had replied “It isn't a woman,” he had not, in fact, been lying.

Lancelot kept his expression flat as Gwaine continued to talk, but inside he was reeling with epiphany. It was so obvious: Gwaine’s protectiveness over Merlin, the little smiles exchanged when no one’s looking (except, sometimes, quite by accident, Lancelot), all the nights he’d caught Merlin sneaking around the castle - always near the knight’s wing.

A little while later, they made their way back to the fire to find that Percival had not yet returned. Sighing and rolling their eyes, Lancelot and Gwaine trundled off into the forest to find out what would be chasing him this time. It was dark enough that Gwaine missed the knowing smile that played across Lancelot’s face. He found he was glad to know that his friends were happy, even if it was a quiet, secret happiness. For once, their patrol was eventful in a good way. 

Some distance ahead, they heard Percival yell.

Well, perhaps both good and bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I've noticed from owning pets: animals know who feeds them and they will make sure that person knows they are hungry.


	2. Sir Leon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Leon follows a hunch.

It was a typical night of patrolling with Arthur: Merlin tending to the horses while the knights laughed and told anecdotes over supper. There was not a thing amiss around the fire or in the surrounding woods as Merlin sat down with the knights to eat his own lukewarm meal.

That night, the stories had taken a rather raunchy turn. Unsurprisingly, most of them featured Gwaine.

“-And then,” Sir Leon was saying, choking back his own laughter as the rest of them rolled were they sat, “and then this lunatic,” he pointed to Gwaine, “says, ‘Excuse me, my lord, it must have been the trifle. Perhaps you should have a word with the cook.’”

Everyone around the fire positively howled.

“We very nearly went to war with the entire kingdom!” Arthur said, gasping around the words.

“Not my finest moment, I’ll admit,” Gwaine said after the laughter had mostly died down.

“You have a lot of very low moments, then,” Elyan quipped, earning a laugh and a hum of agreement from the other knights and the King.

“I don’t think there’s anyone here who doesn’t have a story about you breaking wind, Gwaine,” Percival said, and everyone agreed again. 

“Tell me, Merlin,” Elyan said, “he’s always in the stables with you, what’s worse; Gwaine’s flatulence, or the horse’s dung?”

It was not meant to be a question that required thought, but Merlin deliberated on it anyhow because-

“You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard Gwaine pass gas.”

“You don’t always hear it,” Sir Leon said, glowering darkly at Gwaine, who only smiled in response.

Merlin shook his head. “Nope. No smells, no sounds, nothing.”

“Ha! That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one,” Percival said. “Trying to spare Gwaine’s dignity? You needn’t worry much about that, as, to spare something, it must first have lived.”

Gwaine gave a hearty fake laugh. “Your wit never ceases to amaze me, Sir Percival. Obviously, Merlin is much too polite to talk of such things. Perhaps we should all model ourselves after his pristine standard.”

Arthur guffawed. “Merlin? Polite? Prudish, maybe, but polite?” he laughed again. “Merlin would be considered rude in a tavern full of drunken goblins.”

Merlin glared at him from across the fire. “If that is true, _your majesty_ ,” he said, his scowl collapsing into a sickly sweet smile, “then I have plenty of rude stories to tell. Once, I went to wake Arthur up for his breakfast, a bit early, maybe, but he had a meeting. I got to his bed, and I could see his blanket had a huge - well not huge, I daresay, but it was most definitely-”

“Merlin,” Arthur warned. His knights were desperately trying not to laugh.

“‘Typical morning,’ I thought,” Merlin plowed on, “But, I shook his shoulder and he said something. Now, I couldn’t be certain, so I shook him again, and, sure enough, clear as day, he said-”

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, chucking his empty food bowl at his servant’s head. The knights, no longer able to contain themselves, bellowed out peals of laughter as Arthur chased Merlin, grabbing bowls from the knights and throwing them as he went.

 

Later, everyone was settling down to rest, aside from Merlin, who was sentenced to collecting all of the food bowls that Arthur had thrown from around the forest. Sir Leon could hear him stumbling and cursing as he tried to find the missing bowls in the dark.

“I expect each of us to have a bowl tomorrow night,” Arthur ordered before turning in, “or you’ll be the first to go without. And we’ll see how funny Percival finds you when he has to share with Gwaine.”

“You’d better look hard, Merlin,” Percival had threatened, but only for the laugh.

The knights all liked Merlin well enough, but they knew better than to pity him. Not only because they knew the servant would not take kindly to that, but because they were certain he would soon get his revenge. One of Sir Leon’s favorite of Merlin’s many great qualities was that he was not one to take abuse idly.

This is why it surprised Leon when he heard Gwaine get up from his bedroll after an hour of listening to Merlin search fruitlessly for the bowls. At first, he assumed Gwaine was going to the relieve himself, and, indeed, the knight did disappear for a few minutes. But when he returned, he did not go back to sleep.

Sir Leon heard him walk to where Merlin was searching a bush. There was a quiet exchange between the two men, followed by footsteps retreating into the forest. All was quiet for several minutes before Sir Leon got up to make sure Gwaine wasn’t getting Merlin into trouble.

They had gone the opposite direction of where Elyan was on watch, of that much he was certain, but he quickly lost the trail in the darkness. 

He was just about to turn back when a soft whine caught his attention. It had been too faint for him to be positive, but it might have been pain, or fear. 

He froze, debating on whether to go back and fetch his sword, or keep moving. He had almost decided to turn around, when another sound penetrated the silence. This one was almost as faint as the last, but it sounded like Merlin. Sir Leon went in the direction of the noise, moving as quietly as he could. He got closer and heard a soft moan. Slowly, he approached a small thicket. The noises were coming from the other side.

There was a low moan, accompanied by a guttural sound, almost like a growl. Someone was breathing heavily. Very faintly, he could hear the sound of slurping. 

Sir Leon managed to find a gap in the thicket large enough to see through and nearly choked on his own tongue.

There, leaning against a tree with his trousers down around his ankles, was Merlin, and in front of him, on their knees, was a figure with long, dark hair: Gwaine. 

Merlin’s head was tilted back, his face flushed, his hands gripped into Gwaine’s hair. 

For a few stunned moments, Sir Leon could not move. He watched one of his friends suck off a servant whom he also considered a friend, but he felt he couldn’t really see it. In fact, he was fairly certain all of his senses had ceased functioning. He considered bolting, but there was no guarantee they wouldn’t hear him.

Just when he was beginning to wonder if he would ever experience the world properly again, Merlin tugged at Gwaine’s hair and murmured something that Sir Leon couldn’t quite make out. Gwaine continued his ministrations as though Merlin had said nothing. The servant pulled harder and said, “Gwaine.” Still, the knight did not stop.

When Merlin said his name again only a few moments later, it was in ecstasy. His mouth fell open. The knuckles of his hands turned white where they were entangled in Gwaine’s hair. He could see Gwaine holding the servant’s hips as he took all that Merlin gave. 

Merlin slid down the tree slowly, Gwaine lifting his trousers for him so that his ass didn’t land in the dirt. He smiled up at the knight appreciatively for that. Gwaine kissed his forehead, then his cheek, and whispered something in his ear. Merlin laughed, nuzzling his nose into Gwaine’s fuzzy cheek. He kissed the knight’s jaw, pulled Gwaine into his lap and undid the laces of his trousers. The noises started up again, and Sir Leon decided this would be his best moment to make a clean getaway.

Minutes later, back at his bedroll, Sir Leon realized he should have guessed what they were doing.

Gwaine had first arrived in Camelot directly after the dreaded “Gaius the Goblin” debacle, and, upon hearing the gossip about the flatulence incident in the King’s hall, confided some sage advice to Sir Leon and the other knights in the tavern:

“Never do that in front of your lover.”


	3. Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during The Coming of Arthur Pt. 1 (s3e12).

The first time it happened, Arthur thought it was a fever dream. 

He was dying, he remembered that much. Everything was dark and confusing. He saw his mother, his father, Gwen, everyone he ever cared about dead, then alive again. He saw Camelot burn and Morgana standing in the ashes. He saw Merlin, powerful and beautiful, his eyes glowing gold as he manipulated the world around him to his whims. 

He was trapped in that nightmare until voices - real voices, not the hissing dream whispers of his ghosts - broke through the fog and he followed them.

Two men were talking. Someone said something about wolves or bears or boars, and Arthur wanted to grab his sword, but he couldn’t open his eyes or move. He could hear, though, and it was Merlin who was speaking. Or he had been, before the voices stopped. Instead there was the sound of crunching leaves. Footsteps. Something was approaching.

What had he heard a moment ago? It was about . . . wolves. Merlin and wolves. Arthur used all of the strength he had to make something happen and he managed to crack his eyes open, just barely.

It wasn’t a wolf or a bear. It was Gwaine. He leaned over Merlin, bringing his hand toward the servant’s neck. A surge of adrenaline helped Arthur open his eyes enough to see Merlin tilt his head up with his lips parted. Gwaine kissed Merlin softly, cupping his jaw. After several moments, Gwaine broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together.

“In case the bears get me,” he murmured, just loud enough for Arthur to hear.

Merlin smiled and pulled Gwaine down by his collar for another kiss before he sent him off into the night.

Arthur’s strength waned, sapped by grief. It wasn’t fair to either of them; he had chosen Guinevere, after all. Yet he slipped back into unconsciousness with that feeling pouring into his dreams. 

He dreamt of Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Arthur, my poor useless, clueless poly bi disaster son - so much love in his heart but no idea how to express it. Sorry for the angst. Thank you for reading & I hope you can forgive me!
> 
> Also, by now you probably noticed this is actually a rewrite of the scene where Gwaine and Merlin are sitting around the campfire when Arthur was poisoned & Merlin sent Gwaine away so he could try to heal him with magic. Yeah. I have no excuse.


	4. Elyan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elyan jumps to conclusions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was a pain to write. I edited it about 50 thousand times and I’m still without a beta so hopefully it turned out okay. Enjoy!

Hauling his armor to the armory for polishing was not Elyan’s favorite part of being a knight, particularly after he'd had a difficult training. As gifted as he was with sword and shield, he would never understand flails; big spiky balls on chains that are twice as likely to hit the one who wields them as their intended target. Completely useless. 

And so, bruised and battered, he meandered his way through the castle. It was quite late in the morning and he was rather exhausted and very hungry, therefore he decided he would hide his armor in an alcove to retrieve later, and then went to fetch a snack from the kitchens. It was not his most favorable habit, but desperate times and all that.

On his way back to collect his armor, he passed a section of the castle that had been mostly disused since Morgana’s attack more than a year ago, and paused when he heard strange noises from within. Following them, he came upon a small guest wing that was left empty due to some mild structural damage. The noises were coming from a room just down the hallway to his left.

Thinking of trolls and goblins and any number of unsavory creatures known to plague Camelot, Elyan gripped his sword before he walked to the door.

From the hall, he heard the echo of labored breathing. There were also repeated grunts, occasionally punctuated by soft thumps. He hesitated outside of the room with his breath caught in his lungs. The sounds were definitely that of two men. Two men having sex. 

He walked slowly backward, his face burning as he silently cursed his own obtuseness. The quiet was disrupted by two more grunts, then-

“Harder.” It was Gwaine. Gwaine was in there _having sex_.

Elyan was well aware of Gwaine's reputation among the men and women of Camelot, but never would he think to find a Knight of Camelot fooling around with someone outside his quarters in the middle of the day.

He didn’t realize he stopped his retreat until he noticed he was still surrounded by the grunts of the activities on the other side of the door. He continued, still walking quietly, but much quicker. He hoped to get out of there before he found out who else was in that room, but it was too late.

“You do realize,” the other man said, and it was most definitely Merlin, “you can’t punch a Dorocha.” Another grunt.

“Shut up and hit me again,” replied Gwaine, and Elyan’s curiosity got the better of him.

He tiptoed back to the door and knelt down to look through a hole.

At first, his limited vantage provided only a view of Gwaine, shirtless and in a fighting stance. He glistened with sweat, his hair was pulled back, and he wore thick leather gloves over his hands. His bobbing and weaving was all Elyan could see before Merlin pushed into his space and Elyan’s line of sight. He, too, was shirtless, and wore matching gloves. He bounced on his feet, occasionally striking out at Gwaine with his fist.

Fighting. They were sparring. 

Of course, the Dorocha. Merlin had nearly been lost in the recent incident, and with the death of Lancelot, the reality of nearly losing two close friends must have been too much for Gwaine. He was trying to teach Merlin to protect himself. And, given that Merlin was as much a danger to himself as anyone else with a sword - or any sharp object, for that matter - this was the best and safest way to do so.

Merlin struck out at him a few times, and he did surprisingly well. His stance was mostly solid, but a slight hesitation left him open and he was somewhat unbalanced.

After a few moments of watching the sparring match, Elyan sensed a strange mood permeating the room. Their movements were too close, too intimate. Gwaine cuffed Merlin on the head much too softly for it to be a friendly gesture. His instruction was gentle and encouraging, but serious. Perhaps Elyan had not been so far off when he thought he was hearing sex noises.

“Gwaine,” Merlin said after another minute or so, “we’ve been at this for an hour. Arthur will come looking for me soon.”

Gwaine grunted in response. “You’re leaning too much on your right,” he said, and moved to stand behind Merlin, adjusting his shoulders to shift his weight. “You must be planted solidly on both feet, or else you’ll be knocked over.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. He grabbed Gwaine’s hands and placed them on his hips, leaning back into his chest. “I’m alright, Gwaine,” he mumbled, tipping his head back onto Gwaine’s shoulder. “‘M always alright.”

Gwaine tilted his head to kiss the side of Merlin's neck and wrapped his arms securely around his waist. 

Ah, so not very far off at all.

“You might not be next time.” He kissed Merlin’s cheek. “I wasn't there and you-you-” Gwaine broke off, pressing his forehead into Merlin's shoulder.

Merlin smiled warmly and turned in Gwaine’s grasp. He wrapped his arms around his neck. “You won’t always be there, but I’ll be alright. I can take care of myself.”

“I know." Gwaine nodded. "But you're always taking care of everyone else, too. You need someone to watch your back.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve got that covered.” Elyan could just see the smile playing on Merlin’s face.

Gwaine laughed and lowered his hands to Merlin’s ass, giving it a squeeze. “That I do, love, that I do,” he said, and kissed Merlin.

They backed themselves into an empty table, kissing the whole way. Gwaine lifted Merlin to sit on it, then stepped between his spread legs and kissed him again. Merlin dropped his hands to Gwaine’s lower stomach and grazed his fingertips along the skin underneath his tunic.

Realizing at that point he _was_ intruding on something private, Elyan stood and withdrew from the door once more.

Besides, he thought he heard the prince’s heavy, purposeful steps. He didn't want his friends to get caught, but he wasn't too worried about that, as it was no sooner that he had passed Arthur at the entrance of the guest wing that he heard, 

“Merlin!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess I'm not doing chronological order lol. Anyway, hope you liked it & thank you for reading!


End file.
